


The One Where It Goes Wrong

by shepardly



Series: Murphy's Law [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8168164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepardly/pseuds/shepardly
Summary: McCree sets up a meeting with a contact from his mercenary days, and Hanzo learns that sometimes it takes drastic events for certain feelings to be expressed to the one he cares about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't care for writing out accents phonetically, so while there are a few shortened words here and there for emphasis, the rest relies on your imagination.

Jesse McCree didn’t know where it had gone wrong, exactly. There had been a couple signs, sure, but it hadn’t been anything he couldn’t handle. His contact, Dave, was ironclad; had been for years. They hadn’t spoken since before the Recall, but they had done enough business before that Jesse hadn’t thought twice about agreeing to the meetup when he called.

He had slipped out of the base after dark, not bothering to worry the others with his business. Dave had a job, figured it was Overwatch worthy, but Jesse wanted to hear it for himself before he brought it back to the others.

His heart nearly skipped a beat when a familiar figure fell into step beside him not two streets away from the base, Storm Bow and quiver slung on his back.

“Hanzo!” Jesse had to stop, hand pressed to his chest as he grabbed the assassin’s shoulder as if to hold himself up. “You scared the bejeebers out of me, darlin’. What are you doing out here?”

“You reek of trouble, cowman.” Hanzo sniffed, shooting a sideways glance at Jesse before looking away again. “I’m coming with you to assure that you return from whatever fool’s errand you are on.”

“Aw, Shimada,” Jesse clasped both hands to his heart. “You do care!”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and shouldered Jesse rather harder than strictly necessary on his way by as he resumed walking down the street.

“Don’t make me regret this, McCree.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” Jesse would have clicked his heels if he thought he could get away with it without Hanzo noticing, but hurried to catch up instead. “I'm just going out to meet with an old friend, though, you should know. There won't be a lick of trouble.”

“You always go to meet old friends fully armed?” Hanzo flicked his gaze over Jesse’s full getup, armour, gun, and serape all included.

“It's the fully armed part that makes sure there won't be a lick of trouble.” Jesse cheerfully explained, despite feeling oddly deflated. He thought his outfit made him look rather sharp, but the eldest Shimada was capable of eyeing him in such a way it made him feel like a kid playing dress up.

So why couldn't he stop making moon eyes at the assassin like a damn loon? Curse that man and his perfect… everything. It didn't help that he on occasion had to wonder if his flirting was actually getting positive responses, just before Hanzo walked away like nothing happened. Had it been nothing? Did any of it mean anything?

Jesse shook off these thoughts and tried to focus on what was to come that night as he hailed a cab for them. 

Dave had set up the meeting place in an out of the way location in a back alley on the other side of the city, and they would continue to an undisclosed local bar from there, which was their usual method for meetups. They exited the cab a few blocks from the meetup point to walk the rest of the way. When they got closer, Hanzo hung back, sticking to the shadows as a lookout while Jesse continued on to meet Dave, who was already waiting.

“Long time no see, _amigo_.” Jesse drawled with an easy grin, shaking the offered hand and finding his own caught in an iron grip.

“Sorry about all this, Jesse.” Dave sounded sheepish. “Hate to make you come all the way out here.”

“What are you talking about, partner? Of course I’d come.” Jesse crinkled a brow in confusion while gently trying to free his hand. “No trouble at all.”

“I was talking more about this.”

Jesse caught a glimpse of something in Dave’s hand just as the contact punched him right below the chest piece of his combat armour, knocking all the air from his lungs. Jesse tried to pull away, but Dave still hadn’t let up his iron grip on his hand and shoved him against the nearby building.

“Sorry, cowboy, but you know how it is. There’s no way I could say no to that kind of money on your head.”

Jesse grabbed Dave by the wrist that he had used to punch the cowboy and tried to push him away again, but all his strength was somehow draining from him. His legs felt like they would buckle under him if it wasn’t for Dave keeping him pinned to the wall.

An arrow near-silently sliced through Dave’s skull, instantly killing him. Jesse gasped as he felt something slide out from under his ribs, and stared uncomprehendingly at the bloodied knife that clattered to the pavement. Three more arrows struck three large thugs that Jesse hadn’t noticed approaching from deeper in the alley, and then Hanzo appeared at his side.

“H-Han…” Jesse slurred, starting to slide down the wall. Hanzo quickly propped him up and snatched Jesse’s hand from his side, and said something that was probably a curse in Japanese at the sight of crimson coating the cowboy’s gloved hand.

“We must go.” Hanzo pulled McCree’s right arm over his shoulders to hold him upright. Jesse gasped painfully, fumbling at his chest with his metal hand trying to staunch the wound. “Quickly.”

Jesse managed to take about five steps before his legs gave out. Hanzo grunted as he was suddenly holding up the cowboy’s entire weight, Jesse’s head lolling against his shoulder.

Hanzo tried dragging the larger man further but was soon forced to let him down to the ground. Jesse was barely conscious but still weakly clasping his metal hand against the wound. Hanzo batted Jesse’s hand away to pull off his armour and tear his shirt open to get at the wound. It was more complicated than he was expecting with extra layers and even tubing, but Hanzo soon had Jesse’s chest bared and bunched up a handful of serape to press against the wound.

Jesse’s cry came out with a gurgle and a cough that brought blood to his lips. Hanzo kept pressure with one hand and sent an emergency call with the other, requesting a medical evac. When he went to put the communicator down, Hanzo noticed something under the edge of Jesse’s shirt. He hesitated a moment, but pushed the rest of the fabric aside.

It took a moment to understand what he was looking at. At first he thought it was more armour and kevlar, but further inspection made him think it was actually attached to the cowboy.

“Jesse, what is this?” Hanzo demanded. Jesse coughed wetly but managed to lift his head enough to see what Hanzo was talking about before letting it thump back onto the pavement.

“Oh that,” Jesse wheezed, “Is important. Is it damaged? Does it look wrecked?”

Hanzo scowled but looked the foreign materials over more carefully, looking for tears or breaks. 

“No, I don't believe so.”

“Good, that's… Good.” Jesse looked like he was about to pass out, but Hanzo roughly grabbed him by the lapel of his shirt and slapped him across the face, hard.

“Do. Not. Faint.”

“I don't faint!” Jesse actually came around a bit and even managed to look offended. He opened his mouth to defend himself when they both froze at the sound of sirens.

Jesse cursed and grabbed for Hanzo’s communicator and fumbled one handed with it, keeping his metal hand on the fabric on his chest. Instead of calling for help, however, he pulled up the map function and highlighted a location before shoving it back at Hanzo. “Here, it's an Overwatch safe house. Use my pass code to get in and stay low until someone comes for you. We don't need to explain why a Shimada is in town to the local authorities.”

“Then come, we must hurry.” Hanzo went to help McCree to his feet, but stopped when the cowboy yelped in pain.

“Darlin’, there is no way I'm going to make it on my own two feet and we both know I'll just slow you down. Just go, I'll be fine.” Jesse was paling but was still his stubborn self. 

“The local authorities will be no happier to see you than me.” Hanzo had a dangerous look in his eye. “I'm not leaving you, you fool.”

“Hanzo, come on-” Jesse was cut off as Hanzo pulled him across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The abrupt change in position and altitude nearly made McCree pass out right then and there, but he managed to hang on to consciousness as Hanzo quickly made for the street. 

“Wait,” Jesse gasped, “My hat!”

“Forget the hat! You can replace it.”

“I just got it the way I like it! Can't leave it.” Jesse was actually making a weak attempt to get down to go back for his hat himself, making Hanzo stop with a huff as he gripped the cowboy tighter to prevent his escape. 

“Fine!” Hanzo snapped, turning back against his better judgement, “Shouldn't leave evidence anyway.”

Hanzo quickly found the hat and forgotten chest piece and managed to execute a move that nearly made his knees groan in protest with the full bulk of Jesse McCree across his shoulders. Instead of giving the hat to its injured owner, Hanzo jammed it onto his own head for safe keeping and hooked the armour onto his belt at his hip. 

“While I am so happy to be here to see you in my hat, darlin’, you really oughtta leave me.” Jesse was sounding even more wheezy, if that was possible. “Those sirens are getting closer.”

“I need you for your pass code into the safe house anyway.” Hanzo shifted Jesse on his shoulders as he quickened his pace even more. “My own won't have been keyed into the safe houses until I officially join Overwatch.”

“Sweetheart, we both know you know my pass code.”

“What would make you think that?”

“Because I know that Soldier ordered you to take it easy on the training before you burnt yourself out three months ago, and I happened to see my own training logs a couple weeks ago and I know that I have not been training that much.” Jesse was slurring by the end. “I'm not exactly sure how you got the pass code but I'm betting you were just looking over my shoulder one of those times we've trained together.”

Hanzo’s momentary silence was answer enough. 

“You did not confront Soldier or myself about it?” Hanzo sounded disgruntled.

“We've been making progress! I wasn't going to wreck that by ratting on you.” Jesse gasped as Hanzo ducked last second into an alley to let a vehicle go tearing by. Hanzo waited a moment before risking a look to make sure the way was clear. Jesse’s breathing was sounding worse by the minute, and he had given up on speaking for the moment. 

“Progress?” Hanzo prompted, knowing he had to keep the cowboy awake and talking. He knew what McCree was talking about, and would rather have this conversation in less dire times, but whatever it took…

“Hell with it,” Jesse muttered, seemingly making a decision, “Bad a time as any. Hanzo, I’ve been-”

Another vehicle came tearing around the street and Hanzo was forced to all but fling them into another alley to avoid detection. The sudden movement jarred McCree badly, who let out a pained grunt.

“Apologies.” Hanzo said tersely, feeling guilty about hurting him. His heart was pounding, but he was reasonably sure it wasn't just from worry or exertion. “You were saying?”

He realized with a start he was losing the cowboy again, his long limbs loose and head hanging limply down his arm.

“Think… I'm still leaking pretty bad.” Jesse wheezed, whatever he had been planning on saying earlier completely forgotten.

“We're almost to the safe house, I'll treat your wounds there.” Hanzo informed him, wishing he could quicken his pace. As it was he was nearly running, though as smoothly as he could. “Just stay awake, cowman.”

Jesse made a noise of confirmation just as he passed out cold. Hanzo gritted his teeth in worry and frustration, but he couldn't stop now. The sirens were narrowing in on where the confrontation had happened, but it wouldn't be long before they would be sweeping the streets for suspicious characters. How the authorities had been alerted when no shots had been fired, Hanzo was unsure. 

Hanzo finally reached the right street and found the side door panel on what looked like a small industrial shed. He punched in Jesse’s code, which promptly let them in.

The shed wasn't much to look at at first glance. A workbench with tools lined one wall, and a tarp covered an unidentified small vehicle on the other. Hanzo immediately noticed the elevator near the back and took Jesse straight there. There were no buttons for pass codes, but there was a panel for a hand print scan. Hanzo let Jesse down as carefully as possible, wincing at the sticky wetness that coated his shoulders, and propped him up enough to use his hand on the scanner after yanking his glove off. 

The elevator descended into a much more spacious living area that also included a full med bay, much to Hanzo’s relief. He grabbed Jesse’s limp form under the arms and drug him towards the gurney that served as the centrepiece in the bay.

He was almost there when he suddenly realized that Jesse was too still. Hanzo nearly dropped Jesse in his hurry to lay him flat and held a hand in front of his mouth and nose, then leaned in to listen intently when that detected nothing.

Jesse McCree, loose limbed and bloodied on the floor of a disused Overwatch safehouse, wasn't breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some head canon about McCree's prosthetic arm which comes up a bit in the last couple chapters. I hinted at it a bit in the first chapter but it goes into more detail by the end, and I'm hoping it isn't too big of a turn off for anyone!

Working quickly, Hanzo tilted Jesse's head back and began CPR.

“You don't get to give up so easily.” Hanzo hissed at Jesse’s slack face as he did compressions, feeling ribs creak under his hands. “Wake up, McCree! Breathe!”

It took a few reps, but Jesse finally sucked in a giant breath and started coughing. Hanzo rolled him onto his side into the recovery position and ran to the counter to rifle through its contents, looking for bandages and anything else that looked useful before returning.

It didn't take long to get the bleeding to mostly stop, fortunately, but Hanzo soon faced the difficult challenge of bandaging.

Jesse started to come around just as Hanzo finished cutting his shirt off, the cowboy groaning and clutching at his aching chest. 

“Liked that shirt.” McCree slurred as Hanzo peeled the sodden material away from his upper body and stared. McCree fidgeted painfully, vaguely wondering when someone had stomped on his chest, when he noticed where Hanzo was looking. He suddenly felt self-conscious, despite the pain and crippling weakness that was keeping him flat on his back.

Lots of people seemed to think that McCree’s left arm was metal to his elbow or just above, but the truth was it was far more extensive. The prosthetic continued up to his shoulder, where it plugged into the machinery that made up his left side. He had lost his left shoulder and not quite his whole left pec, and it continued down his side to just above his hip. Because he needed to be able to bend and twist as well as inhale and exhale without solid metal pulling at flesh, the doctors had had to get creative, using a mixture of medical grade metals as well as textiles.

“It used to look a lot worse.” McCree finally said after a moment of silence as Hanzo simply looked. Jesse’s fingers ghosted over where brown flesh and foreign material met. “Ang does amazing work if you don't mind sitting still for it. Barely see the scar tissue anymore.”

Hanzo seemed to startle awake from whatever it was he had been thinking, and finished bandaging the stab wound, helping Jesse sit up so he could neatly wrap his chest.

“Are you hurt?” Jesse asked, voice strangely faint as he leaned heavily on Hanzo. 

“No, I am uninjured.” Hanzo was startled by the question and looked down at himself to see what had prompted the question. Jesse plucked at the material at his shoulder, and Hanzo craned his neck enough to see that blood was drying on his shoulder and down his back from where he had carried McCree. His hands and forearms weren't in much better shape either, but it was all from the cowboy. Hanzo’s gut twisted at the thought. He had lost a lot of blood. “Think you could manage getting to the bed?” 

Hanzo wasn’t particularly optimistic about it. Jesse eyed the waist high bed that might as well have been a mile high at this point.

“Y’know, I think I'm good down here for now.” Considering his legs were feeling like jelly just thinking about it and the fact that it hurt just to sit upright like he was at the moment, the floor didn't feel like too bad of an option. He just wanted to sleep, preferably for a decade. “Just get me a pillow.”

“Nonsense.” Hanzo slid an arm behind his back and under his legs, “Hold on to me.”

“Now, wait just a minute-” Jesse tried to protest but it was already too late. Hanzo simply lifted him like a damsel in distress and took the three steps necessary to deposit him on the gurney, five inch height and Jesse didn't even want to think about weight difference be damned.

“Holy shit, Shimada.” Jesse gasped, clutching at his wound. The movement had hurt but he had to admit it felt better having some cushion under his backside. Hanzo propped the back of the gurney up and pushed McCree down, shoving a couple pillows behind him and producing a blanket from somewhere to drape over him. Despite his quick and almost rough treatment, Jesse was feeling downright coddled.

“Why has no one responded to my hail yet?” Hanzo finally finished his ministrations enough to dig out the communicator from his pocket.

“They might not be able to come until the locals have cleared out.” Jesse offered, pulling the blanket up over his bare chest and closing his eyes as he thought about giving in to exhaustion.

“Are these devices waterproof?”

Jesse cracked an eye open at Hanzo’s odd tone of voice to see the assassin looking at a very bloody communicator.

“Uh…. That's a good question.” Jesse was starting to get a better idea of just how much he had bled all over the place. Hanzo looked like he had been water ballooned down his shoulder and back, the med bay floor was messily streaked, and that wasn't even counting what he had lost in that alley. No wonder he felt like shit. “Does it work?”

Hanzo cleaned off the blood as much as possible with what remained of Jesse’s ruined shirt and tried to turn it on, but shook his head in frustration.

“I should have mine on me somewhere…” Jesse muttered, checking his pockets and producing a very clearly broken communicator, complete with sparking circuitry. They both looked at it for a moment before looking at each other.

“There should be a spare somewhere in here.” Jesse moved to push himself up, trying to think of where it could be, but fell back with a gasp when he felt something shift in his chest.

“Stay still, I will look for it.” Hanzo ordered, already exiting the room to check the small armoury he had noticed on the way in.

Jesse lay back on the pillows, desperately trying to suck in enough air. He wasn't sure what had happened, but it was suddenly even harder to breathe, and it had already been bad before. His chest felt like it was burning up from the inside out. He wanted to call Hanzo back over, but he had no extra oxygen to the point that his vision was already spotting at the edges.

“Found it.” Hanzo came back in, turning the device over to figure out how to turn it on. He started a direct call to Dr. Ziegler instead of starting another emergency beacon, and only then looked up at Jesse. “McCree?”

Jesse's head was flung back as he struggled for air, hands clenching the blanket as he shuddered.

“McCree, is that you?” A familiar voice suddenly came from the communicator in Hanzo’s hand, flinging him into action.

“Dr. Ziegler! He can't breathe!” Hanzo bolted to Jesse’s side, hands hovering, but he had no idea what to do as the cowboy wheezed and thrashed.

“I'm already on my way, Hanzo. We got your earlier beacon and got worried when it was cut off suddenly. Tell me what happened and I'll walk you through what you need to do.”

Hanzo quickly described the stab wound and the symptoms he had observed, but it didn't feel fast enough as the fight faded from Jesse right in front of his eyes.

“Hanzo, go to the second row in, top drawer and get the blue applicator. Twist the top and stick him in the neck where you check for a pulse. You just need to get it close.”

Hanzo was already fumbling through the drawer before she finished and ran back with the blue applicator, twisting the top as he went. Jesse was limp on the gurney, fingers of his good hand twitching as his eyes slid shut. 

“Don't you dare, Jesse McCree.” Hanzo growled, jabbing him in the neck with the applicator that released with a hiss. 

The effect was instantaneous. Jesse suddenly sucked in a huge breath, and then another, until he was breathing almost normally, although it sounded and looked painful. The cowboy looked exhausted, propped up on pillows and paler than he'd ever seen. He looked like he was fighting to keep his eyes open but it was a losing battle. Hanzo only realized then he was gripping McCree’s hand tightly, but when he went to remove it he found Jesse was clinging to him just as tightly.

“The effects are only temporary, but I'll be there soon, Hanzo. Just hang on and call me back in four minutes if I'm not there yet.” Angela ended the call. 

“Were you listening, McCree? Just a few more minutes.” Hanzo wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure Jesse or himself. 

Jesse could only respond with another rattling breath and squeeze of the hand.

Time seemed to pass slowly, and Hanzo was just about to call Dr. Ziegler back when the elevator descended with her, Reinhardt, and Lena, all in civilian clothing.

“Oh, Jesse!” Lena wailed, darting into the med bay, “What did you do this time?!”

“Everybody out.” Angela ordered in her no-nonsense voice as she strode in. “Lena, keep the truck on standby.”

“I… Wait…” Hanzo didn’t want to leave, and going by the grip on his hand Jesse didn’t want him to either, but he found himself being forcibly removed, his grip torn from Jesse’s. Before he knew it, he was standing outside the closed med bay door, heart pounding and breathing heavily, feeling stricken.

“Here, luv, come have a seat.” Lena herded him towards the kitchenette area, and Hanzo soon found himself in a chair, blanket draped over his shoulders, and a cup of tea in his hands while Reinhardt and Lena grilled him on what had happened. He filled them in the best he could, although he hadn’t known much about the contact that McCree was meeting.

He hadn’t liked the setup of the meeting, but according to Jesse it had been their typical M.O. As wild and bull-headed the cowboy could be, Hanzo had trusted his judgment on the situation, but was kicking himself for it now. There had only been a split second to react between the knife being flourished and it being buried in Jesse’s chest, but Hanzo couldn’t help but feel guilty for not reacting more quickly, not that he’d admit.

Hanzo took a sip of the scalding tea, trying to control his shaking hands. He was both furious with and terrified for McCree. What if they never had a chance to finish that conversation?

Reinhardt eventually went back upstairs to tinker in the workshop while Lena decided on doing a safe house inventory, zipping around and making notes. Hanzo felt useless, and found himself drawn towards the window into the med bay, but was quickly shooed back to his seat by a pale faced Lena that had apparently taken her own look through the window. Hanzo abruptly changed his mind and went to the living area to meditate, with mixed results.

Angela finally emerged nearly two hours later, shoulders slumped. Hanzo, fearing the worst, slowly rose to his feet, but she must have read his expression correctly and quickly reassured them.

“He’s alive, but I’ve done all that I can without my equipment back at the base. I would like to take him back, but he just isn’t stable enough to move yet. Winston is sending some of my equipment over to help with that.”

Hanzo peered over her shoulder through the med bay door, catching a glimpse of a mop of messy brown hair.

“He isn’t awake, but you can see him for a few minutes if you’d like.” Angela quietly offered. Hanzo nodded his thanks and approached the door where he hesitated for a moment, running his hands over the brim of the hat he hadn't realized he was still holding. Bracing himself. 

It was still worse than he had been anticipating. Machines quietly beeped and whooshed. The gurney had been reclined nearly flat again, although Jesse was still propped up on a few pillows. Medication, a saline drip, and blood transfusion tubes led under the blankets that were piled on top of him, and Hanzo was horrified to see that Angela had been forced to intubate him. If she hadn’t arrived when she had…

Hanzo pushed the terrifying thought from his mind and came to stand by McCree’s side.

Jesse looked haggard, but wasn't quite as ashen as he had been. He looked… wrong, laying so still and silent, no easy smile or hat taming his shaggy hair. Hanzo placed the hat on the cowboy’s stomach and felt a little better.

He was going to be fine, Hanzo told himself. Jesse would live and they would have that conversation that he had tried to start and everything will be fine.

He kept telling himself that as Dr Ziegler returned with her needed equipment and sent him back out to wait with the others while she did her work. 

While it didn't take as long as he feared, it was still over an hour before Angela emerged to announce that McCree was stable enough to transport. Lena zipped away to inform Reinhardt, who hadn't returned from upstairs yet, and to ready their vehicle, while Angela requested Hanzo’s help.

“He's awake, but heavily medicated. I need to remove his prosthetic for transport, as the last time he was in this state he broke a restraining strap and a very expensive piece of medical equipment trying to ‘touch the colour pink’.” Angela used air quotes. “It's too strong for someone who isn't in control of his own facilities at the moment. I need you to keep him distracted while I remove it.”

Hanzo followed Dr Ziegler into the med bay and was pleased to see McCree was no longer intubated, and he stirred and opened his eyes at their approach.

“Hanzoooooo,” Jesse crooned, drunkenly lifting an arm to loosely grip Hanzo’s forearm. “My favourite person.”

Hanzo stopped dead and looked at Angela, ears burning, but she only shrugged and mouthed the word ‘loopy’ at him.

“I thought I was your favourite person, McCree.” Angela tsked as she looked at notes on her data pad on the counter.

“Mmmm, still favourite. Hanzo’s just more favourite.” Jesse had long, slow blinks going on and seemed incapable of focusing his eyes, but he kept his hand on Hanzo’s arm like an anchor. Hanzo wondered if it was possible for his ears and cheeks to actually burst into flame like they were threatening to. 

Angela returned and motioned Hanzo to stand on Jesse’s right side and she stood opposite of him.

“Don't worry, he won't remember any of this.” She said with a twinkle in her eye, somehow refraining from laughing. “I just need you to keep his attention on you, don't let him look over here. And the more still he stays the better.”

Hanzo nodded, but hesitated, wondering what he could possibly talk about with a man stoned out of his mind. Fortunately, the stoned man took care of that problem. Unfortunately, the man was stoned. 

“Hanzoooo… I like that name. Just rolls off the tongue.” Jesse’s drawl was somehow even thicker, shortening some words and drawing out others, “Gotta secret to tell you, Hanzo. Been meaning to tell you but there's never time.”

“We'll make time to talk about your secret.” Hanzo flicked a glance at Angela, who was studiously pretending to ignore them while flipping catches at McCree’s shoulder. “Later. When you are feeling well.”

“Mmhmm.” Jesse hummed, “Wanna tell you I think I like you. Like like you. Hoping you like like me back. But it's secret. I'll tell you later.”

Jesse’s eyes had drooped shut by the end of his ramble. Hanzo’s cheeks continued burning. As touched as he was by Jesse’s heavily medicated confessions of affection, he was mortified that it was taking place in front of an audience. She still hadn't said anything but he could see her grinning. 

“Ungh.” Jesse grunted and shuddered when something clicked and released with a hiss. He opened his eyes and rolled his head to glare at the culprit. “Ang. You know I hate it when you do that without warning me.”

“Jesse. You know how much it hurts when you tense up before I do that.” Angela dead panned back at him without looking up from what she was doing. “There. All done.”

She lifted McCree’s prosthetic arm off and placed it in the long basket at the base of the gurney for transport. Hanzo had never seen McCree without his arm before. He didn't know the story behind Jesse’s injuries, and had only ever heard him make light about his metal arm, but seeing it gone was sobering. McCree was clearly lucky to be alive. 

The sound of tiny whirring servos came from Jesse’s empty shoulder socket. 

“Jesse, you know it's not good for the motors to run like that.” Angela scolded. “Stop trying to move your arm.”

“Uh-huh.” Jesse’s eyes were shut again.

The servos continued whirring.

“Jesse!”

“Right, alright.” McCree grumbled. The servos fell silent for about three seconds before starting again.

“Jesse James McCree-” Angela started in exasperation, leaning in and fiddling with something in his shoulder.

“It feels weird.” Jesse whined uncharacteristically, wrinkling his nose and arching his back slightly before thumping back onto the gurney in agitation. Angela flipped a switch and the servos stopped, and she checked the readout on the device monitoring Jesse's vitals with a frown.

“His fever is picking up.” Angela sighed. “I'll give him medication for it, but we best get him back to the base.”

It didn't take long for them to get the gurney loaded into the waiting truck. Hanzo was surprised by how bright it was outside, and only realized then it was shortly after noon. The night and the better part of the next day had somehow escaped him.

The back of the truck was big enough that Angela sat on one side of McCree and Hanzo on the other while Lena drove, Reinhardt in shotgun.

McCree faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, but didn't appear to be uncomfortable anymore. He eventually stilled, and didn't move again.

“He's fine.” Angela offered Hanzo a reassuring smile. “It's a natural sleep. The more he gets of it, the better.”

Hanzo realized he had absentmindedly taken Jesse’s hand again, which had obviously triggered her reassurances. Not wanting to add any fuel to the gossip that was sure to run rampant at the base, he carefully tucked Jesse’s hand back under the blanket and settled back in his seat for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: more comfort/recovery and grown-ass men trying with varying success to express themselves.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the trip to the base was quiet and uneventful, much to Hanzo’s relief. He wasn't sure how many more near-death experiences his heart could take. Once they were back, some of Dr Ziegler’s staff took McCree into the medical ward while she stopped Hanzo from following, ignoring his protests. 

“Mr Shimada, McCree is going to be just fine. He just needs rest, as do you. Go to your quarters, get cleaned up, and I don't want to see you back here without at least 7 hours of sleep.”

Hanzo opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut again at the look on her face and instead turned to do as she said, knowing she was right.

“Hanzo.” Her voice had taken a gentler tone. “He really is fine. I fully expect to be discharging him sometime tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Hanzo nodded stiffly, not sure how he felt being comforted by someone who knew perhaps too much about his and Jesse’s personal lives by now. He realized only then that she was holding McCree’s clothing; boots, pants, serape, and belt neatly folded and topped by his hat, obviously intended for the laundry room.

“I have my own laundry to attend to.” Hanzo gestured towards the bundle. “Allow me.”

She smiled and surrendered it without a word. 

Everyone was gone, busy with their day to day duties, much to his relief. He didn't think he could handle the barrage of questions his teammates would definitely have for him had they been here. He made it to his quarters without encountering anyone, shut the door and leaned against it as he locked it, taking a deep breath.

He wasn't surprised when he started shaking. He had been trained his whole life to never show weakness in front of anyone, but now, behind closed doors, everything fell apart.

He placed his bow and quiver behind the door, silently promising them to take proper care of them later, placed McCree’s clothing on his desk, and managed to make it to the small bathroom in his room and looked in the mirror.

His hair was in disarray from having Jesse’s hat jammed onto his head, and his kimono was disheveled. He had washed his hands and arms at the safehouse at Lena’s insistence, but he hadn't realized he had dried blood smeared on his neck and shoulders.

He started the shower to allow it to warm and stripped out of his clothing, his chest tightening when he saw the dark stain down the back of his kimono. It was likely ruined, but his wardrobe had been growing smaller as the months went on. He placed it in the laundry basket to assess later and stepped into the shower.

He went through the motions automatically, shampooing and scrubbing as needed. He lost track of time standing in the near scalding stream of water, but eventually dragged himself out to towel off and wrap himself in his robe.

He looked at his bed, but knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Instead, he shook out McCree’s clothing and treated the blood stains with stain remover, and then retrieved his kimono from the laundry basket for the same treatment. He put on a clean kimono and risked a trip to the laundry room, hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone. He still wasn’t ready to talk about it. 

He came across Soldier 76 in the hall. 

“McCree still breathing?” The masked vigilante asked without skipping a step.

“Yes. Dr Ziegler assures me he'll make a full recovery.”

Soldier 76 gave a satisfied grunt and threw a thumbs up on his way by.

Hanzo quickly ran their laundry through the machines, thankful for the time efficient models that Overwatch had invested in, and returned to his room within an hour without encountering anyone else. His kimono had what looked like a faint water stain down the back, but it would suffice for casual wear without most noticing anything. Of course, Jesse’s sturdy western clothing had come through looking as though nothing had happened.

Hanzo set the folded pile on the desk and changed into his sleep clothes before turning down the lights and climbing into bed. A few minutes later, he turned on the light, got out of bed, wrapped himself in the serape and climbed back into bed before shutting out the light again.

***

Hanzo awoke sometime later, feeling wide awake the second his eyes opened. He checked the time, and realized it was only 3 AM. He tried to go back to sleep, but gave up a few minutes later. He pulled his robe on over his sleep clothes and put the folded serape back on the pile before padding to the kitchen for a cup of tea.

He was surprised to see a light on in the kitchen, and stopped at the doorway to see who it was before deciding if it was worth entering.

Jesse McCree stood at the counter with his back to him, wearing a red flannel shirt, grey sweatpants, and bare feet while making a cup of coffee. Hanzo cleared his throat. 

Jesse startled, nearly sloshing his cup of coffee as he turned. His unbuttoned shirt fell open, revealing white bandages on dark skin, and his left shirt sleeve hung empty.

“Oh,” said Jesse as if he wasn't a med bay escapee, “Howdy, Hanzo.”

“McCree, does Dr Ziegler know that you are here?” Hanzo folded his arms as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Uh no, and I'd appreciate it if it stayed that way.” Jesse didn't sound the least bit guilty as he started boiling water in the kettle and pulled out another mug. “You take your tea black, right?”

Hanzo carefully looked him over, noting that he didn't seem to be in pain or drugged. Satisfied, he nodded and joined him at the counter to brew his tea in the mug and water Jesse had provided, and they sat at the kitchen table.

“How did you leave without Dr Ziegler noticing? I've heard tale that she can be a formidable jailer.” Hanzo opened with. 

“That's my secret, and one I'll never tell.” Jesse grinned a shit-eating grin over his mug before taking a sip.

A secret. 

Hanzo blushed hotly and looked away. McCree nervously cleared his throat.

“Speaking of which, Ang said I was blathering on when I was all strung out on painkillers about some secret.” Jesse peered at him hopefully. “Any ideas as to what I was talking about?”

Hanzo’s mouth went dry. Was he ready for this conversation? He suddenly didn't know what to say.

“I thought perhaps it was about your arm and side.” Hanzo heard himself blurt out. “Your injuries and how you sustained them.”

Jesse deflated a bit, looking into his coffee mug. Was that… disappointment on his face?

“Well, it ain't much of a secret.” He confessed. “It's back from the Blackwatch days. Reyes had our team following a lead that ended up being a Talon trap. I don't remember exactly what happened, but they brought the building down on us and I got pinned under a chunk of concrete.”

Hanzo wrapped his hands around his tea mug, feeling a shiver travel down his spine.

“Reyes was the only other survivor.” Jesse continued, still looking at his drink without actually seeing it. “He wouldn't leave me, I remember that. No Talon agents even came to check that everyone was dead, they were so sure they had got everyone, but it gave him time to dig what was left of me out.”

McCree lifted his gaze to look Hanzo in the eye then, lifting his shoulder in a sheepish shrug.

“Ang wasn't in the country at the time, off on some important mission, so the doctors patched me up best they could. They worked on me for two months but put me out for most of it. Ang was pissed when she got back a few months later but I'm alive.” McCree shrugged again. “She smoothed out the rough spots. Got some artificial tubing for some guts, all my ribs on that side are fake, most of my heart is mine with only one patch, plus a few other things I just let the doctors worry about.”

He lapsed into silence then, taking another drink of his cooling coffee. Hanzo suspected that he was waiting for some sort of reaction.

“Does it trouble you now?”

“Nah, it doesn't hurt at all anymore. I don't have problems with it unless it gets damaged in a firefight but it's all pretty bullet proof for the most part. It'll probably keep working just fine long after I'm dead.” Jesse made eye contact again, looking uncertain. “Does that bother you? Knowing I've got cyborg parts?”

Hanzo startled at the word ‘cyborg’, instantly bringing Genji and his own role in his brother’s current state to mind. Their relationship had been improving as of late, Hanzo finally realizing that Genji meant it when he said he had forgiven him. He just had to work on the forgiving himself part of it. 

After careful consideration, Hanzo realized it didn't bother him. He smiled at Jesse.

“No. Not at all.”

Jesse smiled back, relieved. Sitting in a kitchen at 3 AM, messy haired, sleep grit in his eyes, still smudged with a bit of dirt and blood from his near-death experience the night before, he was the best sight Hanzo had ever laid eyes on. 

“Good, that's good. I mean I know some people are a little freaked out by it and that's alright ‘cuz I know it's a little messed up-”

“Jesse,” Hanzo interrupted the cowboy’s rambling, having steeled his nerves. “I wasn't entirely honest with you. About your secret.”

“Oh yeah?” Jesse looked at him, puzzled. 

Hanzo took a deep breath, opened his mouth, looked at Jesse, heart pounding as supposedly steel nerves shattered. Jesse waited patiently with a confused little smile, another flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Hanzo softened. 

How had Jesse put it?

“Jesse, I….” Hanzo searched for the words, unfamiliar to him, “... Like like you, too.”

Hanzo realized then that he had been wrong, as Jesse's face split into a widest grin he had ever seen. 

_This_ was the best sight he had ever laid eyes on.

**Author's Note:**

> I PROMISE NO ONE DIES IN THIS ONE.
> 
> This story is completely written, but I'm posting the (3) chapters over the next 2-3 days to spread it out a bit.


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